Chapters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
A Spot of Trouble
Chapter 1
A carriage creaked and jolted down the terrible excuse for a road, making the man sitting inside of it groan and grimace as the wheels sank into yet another rut or pot hole. This was the worst road that he had ever experienced in his entire life, and he gritted his teeth as it felt like his spine was being compressed as the carriage hit a particularly large and awful crevasse. He held onto the carriage strap with fingers that were going numb. What the hell was he doing out here in the wilds, anyway?
Oh, yes. He remembered now. He could have been back in his comfortable bed at home right now, waiting for a servant to bring him breakfast on a tray. But he also would have had the daily ‘conversation’ with his mother to look forward to. For conversation, read lecture. She nagged at him endlessly about getting married to a female and producing an heir. And she either watched every move that he made, or hired private agents to do so in her place. He hadn’t been able to have a tryst with a man for…the Gods only knew how long now. He had such a massive case of blue balls that he feared that they were going to turn deep purple any day now.
Worse, she expected him to shoulder his uncle’s duties and responsibilities, tasks that he was simply not equipped for. It made his head ache to even look at the ledgers that his estate agent showed him, but somehow he was supposed to know what to do and what orders to give the man. And the king was exasperated with him because he flatly refused to try to learn the intricacies of politics. How could the man expect him to do so? He wasn’t stupid, exactly, but he also wasn’t smart like his uncle had been. All of these things went right over his head. He felt baffled and confused all the time, like a bull run into a thorn thicket.
Whenever he looked in the mirror anymore, which wasn’t often, he was shocked by how haggard his face had grown. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was developing lines in his skin despite the fact that he was only in his mid-twenties. Under the multiple pressures that had been heaped on him, he was sinking fast and deeply. He was much afraid that he’d be driven to an early death by apoplexy if he had to endure too much more of this. Or he’d go mad, and end his days gibbering in a small room somewhere while people spoon-fed him gruel. He had to try to find his uncle and convince Avhonari to return. He HAD to! He simply couldn’t do this anymore. So no matter how bad this trip became, he’d endure it. At least if this killed him he’d be free.
Traggen groaned as the carriage jolted and shuddered, closing his eyes. His only hope was the fact that this road had to end sometime. Didn’t it? Oh, please, Gods, let it end… It did, at last, but only after he’d been reduced to nothing but a mass of aches and pains. The carriage came to a halt, and he nearly sobbed in relief. The door opened, and the driver stuck his head inside. “My Lord,” he said respectfully, “The road ends here. There is a track that goes on from here, and a wooden sign says that the village where your letters go is at the end of it. You will have to walk or ride horseback, I’m afraid.”
“That’s fine,” Traggen replied wearily. “I’ll walk.” No more jolting, he thought as he climbed stiffly out of the carriage. No matter how much his feet ached from the walk, it was still better than riding atop an animal that would sway and jolt him some more. The driver and one of his guards were going to stay with the carriage while he went on with the other. The man was shouldering a pack of supplies and clothing, for which Traggen was grateful. He wasn’t in good enough shape to carry anything heavy at the moment. “If we don’t return right away,” he told the driver and the guard, “Take the carriage to the nearest village and wait for us there.”
“Of course, My Lord,” the driver said, touching his forelock. Traggen sighed, and looked at the narrow track that he and the guard had to travel down to the small village where the former Lord Avhonari was now living. Better to just get going, he told himself. Otherwise he’d fall down on his face and never move again.
He motioned to the guard. “Let’s go,” he said, and began the long trudge to the village.
Hours later (or so it seemed to Traggen, who now felt dizzy with weariness), the guard finally called: “There, My Lord!” and pointed. Traggen lifted his head and stared at the small collection of daub and wattle huts ahead of them, and wanted to cry with relief. Somehow he forced himself to go on, his feet and legs throbbing and on fire. He saw some of the locals staring curiously at him and the guard as they entered the village, and Traggen went up to one of them. “Greetings,” he said, glad fro the translation stone that he wore around his neck. “I am Traggen, and I’m looking for my uncle Avhonari. Does he live in this village?”
“No,” the man replied, shaking his head. Traggen’s heart sank, and he felt sick. He wanted to crumple to the ground and howl. But then the villager continued: “He lives in the house over there, outside the village,” and he pointed to the east.
Oh, thank you, Gods. Traggen wanted to wring the man’s hand in gratitude. “My thanks,” he said fervently. He motioned to his guard and limped past the villager, who watched him walk away.
He saw that the house his uncle lived in was a large, gracious-looking stone structure. It had a big porch with a padded bench on it, and wooden chimes hung from the roof of the porch. They made a pleasant sound as a soft wind blew through them. Altogether it was a very nice place. But he only really had eyes for the padded bench, and he staggered over to sink down onto it with a groan of misery. He was never, EVER moving again! He’d just die right here, that would be nice. This was a pretty spot to be buried in. The guard stood next to him, waiting patiently for him to move or say something.
Traggen whined miserably in the back of his throat, feeling as though every one of his muscles had been pulverized. Then he heard a shocked, familiar voice speaking over his head; “Traggen?” He forced his eyes open and saw his uncle standing nearby. Avhonari had just come out of his house. He looked startled to see his young relative here at his new home.
Traggen wanted to laugh, but he just didn’t have the energy. “Yes, Uncle,” he said hoarsely, “It’s me.”
“What are you doing here?” Avhonari asked.
“I came to talk to you,” Traggen replied. “And nearly killed myself in the process.” Avhonari looked him over.
“You don’t look very good,” he remarked, his voice laced with concern.
“I don’t feel very good, either,” Traggen sighed.
“Come inside and rest,” Avhonari told him. “We'll talk about why you came here later when you’re feeling better.” He coaxed his nephew to his feet, and Traggen stood on trembling legs. Avhonari guided him into the house and led him to a bedroom. The sight of the comfortable-looking bed made him moan. “Lie down and sleep,” his uncle directed him, urging him over to the bed. “Dinner will be ready soon, and we can talk as we eat.”
“All right,” he replied, before he fell into the bed and knew no more for a long time.
Traggen was woken up by something tickling his face. He groaned and batted at it, but whatever it was only receded briefly before returning. He frowned, not wanting to open his eyes or move. But at last he did, and found himself face-to-face with a boy of maybe seven or eight. A pair of large amber eyes were staring at him curiously. “Who are you?” he croaked out of a mouth that felt like a desert.
“I’m K’var,” the boy replied readily.
He blinked. “What are you doing in my uncle’s house?” he asked.
The boy cocked his head. “My fathers live here,” he replied.
“Your…” he stared up at the boy in amazement as the child sat down cross-legged on the bed beside him. “Uncle Avhonari is your…how can that be?”
“Because Father Avhonari and Father Z’sharan adopted me,” the boy told him. “My parents were killed during a hunt.”
“Oh, I see,” he said. “Then you must be like Z’sharan. Whatever he is,” Traggen muttered.
“Yes,” K’var said. “We are of the same tribe.”
“Great. So you’re my relative too?” Traggen said sardonically as he began to push himself up on his forearms slowly.
The boy nodded. “You’re my cousin,” he chirped cheerfully. “Father Avhonari said so.”
“I see.” Traggen managed to get himself up to a sitting position, but it wasn’t easy. He still ached all over. The boy watched him with bright eyes.
“You came a long way, Father told me so,” he said, his voice reverberating with curiosity.
“Yes, I did. I came to see my uncle, to talk with him.” Traggen explained.
“About what?”
He didn’t want to tell the boy that he wanted to beg his uncle to return to that distant land, so he only said: “Family matters. Where is my uncle, anyway?”
“In his study. He’s waiting for Father Z’sharan to return, and then we’re going to eat dinner. That’s why he sent me to wake you up, because we’re going to eat soon.”
Wonderful. He was starving now that he’d gotten some rest after that harrowing journey. Traggen crawled off the bed, and then almost fell on his face when his legs threatened to give out on him. He wavered, putting out a hand to balance himself as the boy scrambled off the bed and asked: “Are you all right?”
“I will be,” he replied, not totally sure about that but feeling somewhat more hopeful. “Just give me a moment.” K’var nodded and waited patiently for him to find his balance. Finally he took a wobbly step away from the bed, and his legs firmed up under him. He sighed in relief. “I think I can make it after all,” he said with a wry smile at the boy.
“Okay! Come on then!” K’var waved an excited hand at him, and darted out into the hallway. He smiled a little at the child’s exuberance. Three years of misery had changed Traggen a good deal from the petulant little snot that he’d once been. Having the realities of life dumped on him had matured him a bit. He followed after the bouncing boy as K’var darted away toward the kitchen, Traggen moving at a much slower pace, of course. The child actually circled back several times to make sure that he made it, which rather amused him.
Finally they arrived at the doorway into the large, warm room, and a dark-skinned woman who was clearly one of the villagers chuckled and motioned K’var over to give him a freshly-baked cookie. “Now don’t tell your Da that I gave that to you before you had your meal,” she whispered with a wink.
“I won’t,” he hissed, then devoured the cookie down to the last crumb. He spoke through the last bite, waving at Traggen. “This is Father’s nephew Traggen, he just arrived. He’s going to eat with us.”
“Very well,” she replied, “I’ll set another place.”
The boy came bouncing back to him. “Come on, let’s go outside and wait for Father Z’sharan! Father Avhonari will come soon,” he added as he herded a bemused Traggen toward the front door. He found himself once more sitting on the padded bench. The guard was still on the porch, although he was sitting on the edge of it when they appeared. He jumped up, but Traggen waved at him to sit back down.
“We’ll be eating soon,” he told the guard, “And I’m sure that my uncle won’t begrudge you a meal.” The guard looked happy at his words. Traggen settled down on the bench as K’var sat beside him and swung his legs briskly.
“What are we waiting for? Where is Z’sharan?” Traggen asked at last. The boy pointed at the deep green of the trees where the jungle started not far away.
“He’s there,” the boy replied. “He’s a Speaker, so he goes to villages and tells stories and things.”
“Oh,” Traggen said, not pointing out that he had no idea what the child was talking about.
“There he is!” yelped the boy, jumping to his feet and darting away to meet the man walking out of the trees. Traggen watched as Z‘sharan caught the boy up and lifted him into the air, hearing K’var squeal and giggle. Then he lowered the child so that their noses were touching affectionately. K’var put his skinny arms around Z’sharan’s neck. Traggen felt wary as the two of them started for the house, remembering their last encounter. Those claws, the fangs, the glowing eyes! He’d pissed himself out of sheer fear. His body tensed as Z’sharan caught sight of him, and his brows lowered a bit over his golden eyes. K’var was speaking into his ear, and whatever the boy said made Z’sharan’s face lose some of its angry look. He padded up to the porch.
“Hello, cub,” he said to Traggen coolly.
At one time he would have been completely infuriated to be called that. Now he just sighed and said: “Greetings, Z’sharan. It has been some time since I saw you last.”
“Yes,” Z’sharan agreed, setting his child down on the ground. “Run and get Avhonari,” he told K’var, who nodded and scurried off. Z’sharan merely looked at him for a moment. Then he said, with a light growl in his voice: “I do not care why you are here, Traggen. But do not upset Avhonari, or you will answer to me.”
He gulped. “I understand,” he said. Z’sharan nodded, accepting his words. He glanced over his shoulder at the jungle. Traggen wondered what he was looking at, until he saw a figure striding out of the trees. A dead animal was slung over this person’s shoulder. He was taller, much taller than Z’sharan, and more muscular as well. Since he was only wearing a loincloth, Traggen had a great view of a powerful-looking body as this man strode up to them.
Z’sharan turned back to Traggen. “This is J’Dran,” he told Traggen politely, “My brother. He’s come to eat dinner with us.” The man set the animal carcass on the ground, his golden eyes looking Traggen over. Suddenly it seemed rather hard for him to breathe.
J’Dran frowned slightly. “Puny-looking thing,” he growled.
Traggen felt indignant. He scowled up at J’Dran. Z’sharan’s golden eyes were gleaming with laughter, and he put a hand over his mouth to hide a toothy smile. Just then Avhonari emerged from the house with his son, so Traggen turned his attention to his uncle and refrained from replying to the irritating muscle-head who was Z’sharan’s brother.
“Uncle Avhonari, might I talk to you alone?” Traggen asked his relative urgently. “Please?”
Avhonari heard the desperation in his voice. He sighed and touched his adopted son’s head. “Go with Z’sharan and your Uncle J’Dran, kitten; your cousin and I will be in to eat in a moment. All right?”
K’var nodded. He darted away to jump on his tall uncle, and J’Dran laughed as he swung the cub up onto his shoulder to perch there as they all entered the house together. Avhonari and Traggen started toward his study, but not before Z’sharan sent Traggen a cold look of warning. It was a silent reminder of what he’d do to Traggen if he upset his uncle. He swallowed heavily as Avhonari opened the door to his study and led the way in. “Please sit down, Traggen,” he told his nephew, waving at a chair. He himself sat down at the desk and folded his hands atop it. “So just why have you come all this way to talk to me?” He asked curiously.
Traggen took a deep breath. “I made the trek here with just one purpose in mind, Uncle,” he began. “And that is to beg you to return home!”
Avhonari stared at him silently. “Why?” he asked at last.
“Why?!” Traggen yelped. “Because you need to take care of your family!” he ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “I can’t do it anymore,” he said, his voice trembling a little. “I just CAN’T. I’m no good at anything, Uncle Avhonari. I can’t run the estate, I don’t understand politics at all…Hells, I have trouble remembering to pay the servants! I always knew I was useless, but this just drives it home! Please come back and take over again, please!”
His hands were twining in his lap, and Avhonari felt a pang of guilt. He’d saddled his poor useless nephew with all of these responsibilities, knowing full well that the youth wasn’t capable of carrying any of those duties out. He’d done it because Traggen was an ill-tempered, spoiled brat who’d made his life miserable – and in the end, had unmasked Z’sharan so that he and Avhonari had been forced to flee the country together. Moreover, he’d sent that letter to his sister informing her of his nephew’s sexual habits deliberately to punish him. But looking at Traggen’s haggard face, he felt horrible. The boy looked like he was falling apart.
But…He sighed. “I’m afraid that I can’t do that, no matter how much you beg me to,” he said as gently as he could.
“Why not?” Traggen nearly whimpered, as despair threatened to overwhelm him.
Avhonari made a helpless movement with one hand. “Because of Z’sharan,” he explained. “Even if I wished to return, which I don’t, I can’t go back with Z’sharan. His Majesty would try to put Z’sharan in a cage once he realized his true nature. I cannot have that.”
“His true…? You mean the fangs and the claws? Just what is he, anyway?” Avhonari shrugged, deciding to admit the truth about Z’sharan’s nature since he did not intend to return ‘home’ no matter what.
“Z’sharan and his people are wer folk,” he said as Traggen’s jaw dropped. “Wereleopards, to be exact. He can transform into a very beautiful leopard, as can J’Dran and K’var. So you see, the King would have his wizards confiscate Z’sharan and put him in a cage at Court as an oddity if I ever returned. And I would not go back without Z’sharan or K’var anyway, as they are my true family now. I’m sorry, Traggen, but it is impossible for me to return.”
Traggen stared at him across the desk dumbly. He’d known that he might not get anywhere by coming here, but he now knew that he didn’t have a chance. His uncle was correct – if he ever returned with Z’sharan and K’var in tow, the King would have them taken and put on display at Court. The thought of his little cousin trapped in a cage made his stomach twist. Even he wasn’t that heartless. He groaned, sinking his face into his hands. It was over. He might as well use the dagger he carried in his boot and slit his wrists. At least the agony would be over then.
He felt a hand settled on his shoulder, and looked up into his uncle’s compassionate eyes. “Traggen, it’s clear that you aren’t fit to hold my title, and the responsibilities inherent for anyone who holds it. But do not feel bad; you are in a majority. Most people would struggle under such a burden. This is my advice to you, and I suggest that you take it.” He looked deep into his nephew’s eyes. “Don’t go back,” he said simply.
Traggen blinked. His uncle was actually telling him that he shouldn’t go home? “But…” he began helplessly. “How can I not? Who will…?”
Avhonari smiled slightly. “I can think of one candidate,” he said in amusement. “Your mother.”
“Mother?” Traggen said, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. My sister is a very capable person, and frankly her abilities have been underutilized over the years. Many was the time that I wished when I was younger that she had just inherited the title and responsibilities, then I could have pursued my studies in peace. With no other male of age, she could actually now take the title for herself. Write her a letter, and tell her that you do not intend to return and that you want her to take over for you. She’ll be angry, of course, but eventually she’ll be reconciled. Especially when she begins to find herself enjoying the work. She won’t be bored anymore, and eventually one of your cousins will be old enough that she can train him to be the new lord after she’s gone. I believe that this is the best idea for everyone concerned.”
Traggen felt a wild spurt of hope. “But what shall I do here?” he asked, looking around. “I’m no scholar, Uncle. And I have no money of my own. I don’t think starving here would be a better alternative than going back would be.”
“Very true,” Avhonari conceded. “But I believe that I can help you there. You might not have many other abilities, Traggen, but you are actually a very capable and accomplished swordsman. Or have you given up your training?”
“No,” Traggen replied. “It was the only thing that I could do that didn’t drive me mad all the time. I did a lot of training, actually.”
“Excellent. I’ve often wished that I could teach K’var how to use a sword, but I was never a very good swordsman. And I haven’t practiced myself in years. If you wish to remain here, I will employ you as his weapons-tutor.”
Traggen felt a lump rise in his throat. “Uncle Avhonari…I don’t know what to say.”
Avhonari’s lips quirked up into a wry smile. “This is not just me being generous, Traggen,” he said. “I’m afraid that I owe you a debt.”
“A debt?” Traggen said, puzzled.
Avhonari sighed. “Yes. You see, it was I who sent that letter to your mother, telling her of your sexual proclivities."
Shocked silence. Traggen’s eyes were practically bugging out of his head. “You…You…why would you DO that?!” he cried in horror. “Do you know what I’ve gone through at her hands since then? I’ve never had a moment of peace or a moment alone either! She had me followed around by agents so that I couldn’t have a tryst with a man, and she spent all of her time lecturing me about getting married and producing an heir with a female. I don’t know how I stopped myself from going completely mad. I haven’t been with anyone in years. Years!” he nearly screamed, his face turning red.
Avhonari flinched. “I’m very sorry, Traggen,” he said remorsefully. “I should have known how she’d react to that letter. I shouldn’t have sent it.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Traggen growled. He rose to his feet, pacing around the study. “I really can’t believe this," he muttered. "I never knew that you were this cruel, Uncle.”
Avhonari felt awful. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but left it open when Traggen began to laugh. “I have to say, I’m impressed,” he said, shaking his head. “I always thought that you were a complete push-over. I misjudged you, Uncle.”
Avhonari didn’t know quite what to make of this. Traggen grinned at his expression. “Never mind,” he said, waving a careless hand at his relative. “I’ll forgive you, especially since you’re helping me to escape that situation. Besides, if I get too angry at you I’ll have Z’sharan in here trying to eat me,” he added with a gleam in his eyes.
Avhonari looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Your cat threatened me. He said that if I upset you I’d regret it,” Traggen explained.
“Oh,” Avhonari smiled. “Z’sharan has always been very protective of me.”
Traggen shrugged. “Well, now that everything’s settled, can we go and eat? I’m starving.”
Avhonari’s lips twitched. “Yes, of course. And K’var will be as well; he’ll be very fidgety by now. Let’s go,” he led the way out of his study and into the kitchen, where the three wereleopards were sitting at the table waiting for them.
Z’sharan lifted his head as his mate appeared. “Is all well?” he asked suspiciously, giving Traggen a hard look.
“Yes,” Avhonari replied soothingly. “Traggen and I had a good talk, and he’s decided to stay here for awhile and teach K’var to use a sword.”
Z’sharan’s brows lowered at this statement, but their son squeaked and jumped out of his chair. He ran around the table and jumped into a surprised Traggen’s arms. “You’re going to stay, Cousin Traggen?” he asked eagerly.
Holding the squirming, delighted handful of cub, Traggen found himself smiling. “Yes, I’ll be staying,” he confirmed. “Uncle Avhonari asked me to be your weapons-tutor.”
K’var hugged him tightly. Then he turned in Traggen’s grasp to look at Z’sharan. “isn’t it great news, Father Z’sharan?” he asked eagerly. “That Cousin Traggen’s going to stay with us?”
“Yes, it’s marvelous,” Z’sharan replied dryly. His eyes told a different story, but Traggen chose to ignore the warning in them this time. He figured that if his uncle approved of his staying here, and K’var was this eager, then Z’sharan would have to accept his presence whether he liked it or not.
He set K’var on his feet. The cub promptly ran over to embrace Avhonari around the middle, before running around to climb into his seat once again. He leaned over to speak to his Uncle J’Dran, who was sitting next to him. He whispered something to the older wereleopard, and whatever it was made J’Dran smile and run a hand through his soft hair fondly. His golden eyes stared up at Traggen in a thoughtful, weighing manner that rather annoyed Traggen. He scowled and looked away, hearing a low chuckle from across the table.
“Please sit down, Traggen,” Avhonari said as he took his seat next to Z’sharan. He took the only empty seat at the table, glad that it was at the end near K’var and Avhonari and not near Z’sharan or his brother.
Avhonari served himself and Z’sharan some food, then passed the bowls and platters to Traggen. He eagerly piled food onto his plate, practically drooling because he was so hungry. Then he told K’var to hold out his plate and he served the youngster, which made both Avhonari and Z’sharan give him approving looks that he didn’t see. Avhonari then glanced at his mate silently, as though to impress on Z’sharan that this Traggen wasn’t very much like the one that they’d known three years ago. The wereleopard shrugged slightly, indicating that the jury was still out where he was concerned. He would wait and see how Traggen behaved over the next weeks and months before making up his mind.
Traggen tried not to gulp his food, and to actually chew it; but it wasn’t easy. It tasted so good, and he was so hungry…Conversation went on around the table without him, and he hoped that none of them thought that he was being rude because he wasn’t saying anything. But when he glanced up he saw that K’var was eating with noisy abandon as well, the cub chewing vigorously at a strip of meat. Looking at him, Traggen thought about what his uncle had told him. This child could really transform into a leopard? It hardy seemed possible. He was so cute and bouncy, and except for a few differences he looked totally human. Until he saw it with his own eyes, he was going to have trouble believing it.
Finally, dinner was over. Traggen sat back in his chair with a happy sigh, patting his full belly. K’var looked rather bloated, and was yawning a bit. Avhonari glanced at his two guests. “We usually sit on the porch at this time of the evening,” he told them. “Would either of you like to join us?”
J’Dran got to his feet and scooped up his small nephew. K’var yelped happily as his uncle tossed him into the air. “I’ll play with the cub,” J’Dran remarked, carrying a wriggling K’var toward the door.
Traggen got slowly to his feet. His legs had stiffened again, and now that he was full of food and drink he felt heavy and weary. Avhonari gave him a concerned look. “Perhaps you should go to bed early, Traggen,” he remarked to his nephew.
“I suppose so, but I’m not used to going to bed this early. I doubt that I’d sleep,” Traggen replied. “I’ll just go and sit on the porch with you for a bit, until my body relaxes enough for me to sleep.”
“Very well,” Avhonari watched him to make sure that he was going to be able to stay on his feet as Traggen dragged himself outside once more. He and Z’sharan followed at Traggen’s heels, arm-in-arm. Once on the porch, they took their place on the bench as Traggen carefully sat down on the top step.
J’Dran was out in the field beyond the house, tossing K’var in the air to make the cub squeal in excited delight. Traggen found himself watching that big, muscular, almost-naked body. He couldn’t look away. His sex-deprived body throbbed sullenly, reminding him of just how long it had been since he’d had a man. His cock was half-hard, but he forced himself to look away at last. Once he would have been sluttish enough that he would have thrown himself on J’Dran whether the wereleopard was interested or not. But that would be a foolish thing to do with someone as large and powerful as J’Dran. If the wereleopard was offended, he could rip Traggen in half easily.
The evening wind blew on his face, and he closed his eyes as he let his body slump. It was so peaceful here. Traggen had the feeling that a new life was just beginning for him, and he decided to relax and just enjoy the changes.
Traggen finally sighed and hauled his weary carcass up from the step. He had to go and speak to the guard who’d accompanied him here. He found the man in the kitchen, drinking a glass of ale after the meal that the cook had provided him with. He sprang to his feet when Traggen appeared in the doorway, but he waved a hand to tell the man that he needn’t bother. “I just wanted to tell you,” Traggen began, “That I’ll be sending you back to the carriage tomorrow morning. I’ll also give you a letter to take to my mother.”
“Won’t you be coming with me, My Lord?” the man asked worriedly.
Traggen shook his head. “No, I won’t. I’ll be staying here with my uncle and his family. The letter will explain everything to my mother, I assure you. “
The guard didn’t look very happy, but while Traggen sympathized with him that wasn’t enough to make him want to return ‘home’. He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. He felt a sullen headache throbbing behind his eyes. “You can sleep here on a pallet in front of the fire tonight,” he said wearily. “I’ll speak to you again in the morning.”
He left the kitchen, his eyes starting to go bleary. He gasped when he ran suddenly into a large, hard surface and bounced off of it. He started to fall, but a hand grabbed him and held him up. He blinked up into a pair of golden eyes, seeing J’Dran looking down at him. The big wereleopard frowned slightly. “Are you well, little one?” he asked.
Indignation offered Traggen a fresh surge of energy. He glared up at J’Dran as he pulled away. “I’m fine!” he snapped. “I thought you were playing with K’var?”
J’Dran shrugged. “My brother and his mate are putting the cub to bed; not that he wants to go. He‘s very excited to have you here.”
Traggen’s brows drew down. J’Dran didn’t sound all that enthusiastic himself about the whole subject. “You don’t approve of my being here?” he asked stiffly.
The wereleopard’s eyes narrowed a little. “My brother told me all about you,” he said in a voice that had a low growl in its undertones. “And about what happened when he was in the human lands. So no – I don’t particularly approve of your presence here. Although…as long as you behave yourself and don’t upset my brother’s mate, you and I will not have a real problem.”
Traggen laughed in a cracked sort of way. “You’re the second wereleopard today who’s threatened me,” he noted. “It must be some kind of record. Don’t worry; I won’t upset my uncle. I wouldn’t anyway, but the prospect of not having to deal with you makes it doubly worth my while,” having imparted this shot across J’Dran’s brows, he gathered himself up with as much dignity as he could muster. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going to bed too,” he started to walk away with his back straight and his head held high, hearing a rumble of low laughter behind him that made him want to reach for his sword.
But he didn’t quite make it. Now that that last spurt of energy was draining out of him, along with the adrenaline that had been behind it, his eyes blurred again. He stumbled, feeling weakness creeping up his body as exhaustion and the long, hard journey he’d endured(not to mention the stresses of the last several years) all began to take their toll on him at once. He began to fall again, as darkness rushed up to greet him. He fell into it with a last sigh, passing out completely.
J’Dran used his superior speed and reflexes to catch Traggen’s limp form as it fell. He pulled the human up into his arms, looking Traggen over worriedly. But while the human seemed unconscious, his pulse (J’Dran could hear it beating in his throat and chest) was good, as was his coloring. He was simply exhausted. The wereleopard began to carry Traggen toward the guest bedroom where he’d slept earlier this afternoon, reflecting to himself that this human wasn’t at all what he’d expected considering what his brother had told him about how Traggen had behaved while Z’sharan was living in Lord Avhonari’s house. Perhaps he wasn’t seeing the whole of Traggen, since the man was so out-of-it at the moment. Perhaps he’d be different in the morning. He’d wait and see.
J’Dran studied Traggen’s face as he carried the human to the room. Traggen and his uncle looked somewhat alike, from the black hair (much shorter, in Traggen’s case) atop their heads to the rather fine-boned aristocratic faces. But the boy’s eyes were the blue of a darkened sea, and his mouth (when not set in petulant lines) was fuller, the lips more pink. He wondered idly what they’d taste like, if he tried the ‘kissing’ that he’d seen his brother and his mate doing together. But he wasn’t going to try it on an unconscious man.
He took Traggen into the bedroom, shouldering the door open casually. He laid the human atop the bed, and then paused. A thoughtful expression ran over his face, and then a rather wicked smile full of fang spread his mouth wide. He chuckled as he reached down to begin figuring out the laces on the tunic that Traggen was wearing. He’d never seen a completely nude human before; his curiosity was roused. He managed to get the laces undone, and slowly pulled the tunic off over Traggen’s head. He tossed it away casually onto a chair nearby, then pulled the human’s boots off before he started on the breeches. Why, he wondered in slight frustration, did humans choose to wear so many pieces of clothing? It seemed to take him forever to remove the breeches, but at last he got them off with a feeling of triumph. Traggen wore only some linen smallclothes under them, and these were easily dealt with. Then J’Dran straightened up as he let his eyes roam over a naked human for the very first time.
There were many similarities, of course. But Traggen had more body hair than one of his people, both under his arms and across his chest. Not a mat, by any means, but there was a curly dark trail that ran down his belly to his groin. J’Dran had the sudden urge to lick at that trail, to see what the hair tasted like. There were no spots, of course…not that they would have shown up against that black hair anyway. And Traggen’s cock had something that his own people’s did not – a foreskin. He stared in interest at the enveloping piece of soft-looking white skin that covered Traggen’s penis. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to play with it like a cat with a new ball of string. But groping an unconscious man would be even worse than kissing him. So he shook off his urges and pulled back the sheet, shoving Traggen over until his head was on the pillow. Then he draped the sheet over Traggen and left him to sleep, padding away to the room where he slept whenever he came to visit his brother and his brother’s mate.
Avhonari pulled his mate’s lovely naked body into his arms, spooning Z’sharan up against him. He nuzzled at the damp soft hair atop the wereleopard’s head, enjoying the feel of having his mate in his arms. This was one or his favorite times of the day – although the act that preceded it was even better. But cuddling in the afterglow was also quite nice. Their precious child was safely snuggled in his bed, and the house was quiet. J’Dran had stopped by briefly earlier to inform them that he’d put Traggen to bed, when Avhonari’s nephew had passed out from sheer exhaustion. He didn’t think that there was anything wrong with Traggen that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Avhonari had been glad to hear that – he didn’t want anything to happen to his nephew. He’d always cared for Traggen, even when he’d been an immature little snot. Now, when he was showing some signs of maturity, Avhonari felt a great urge to become reacquainted with his nephew.
Z’sharan sighed, stretching in his arms. “Avhonari,” he said softly.
“Yes?” he idly ran his hands down his mate’s chest as he spoke.
“You know that I am not terribly pleased that the cub has come…” Z’sharan began.
Avhonari tensed a little. “Yes, I know that,” he said unhappily.
The wereleopard rolled over so that he could look into his mate’s eyes. He cupped the side of Avhonari’s face with his hand. “But I will not try to drive him away,” he said gravely. “Because I know it would hurt you. He is welcome in our house,” he added.
Avhonari felt a prickle of moisture at his eyes. “Thank you, Z’sharan,” he said, before he kissed his mate tenderly to show his appreciation.
Go to Next Chapter
A Spot of Trouble
Chapter 1
A carriage creaked and jolted down the terrible excuse for a road, making the man sitting inside of it groan and grimace as the wheels sank into yet another rut or pot hole. This was the worst road that he had ever experienced in his entire life, and he gritted his teeth as it felt like his spine was being compressed as the carriage hit a particularly large and awful crevasse. He held onto the carriage strap with fingers that were going numb. What the hell was he doing out here in the wilds, anyway?
Oh, yes. He remembered now. He could have been back in his comfortable bed at home right now, waiting for a servant to bring him breakfast on a tray. But he also would have had the daily ‘conversation’ with his mother to look forward to. For conversation, read lecture. She nagged at him endlessly about getting married to a female and producing an heir. And she either watched every move that he made, or hired private agents to do so in her place. He hadn’t been able to have a tryst with a man for…the Gods only knew how long now. He had such a massive case of blue balls that he feared that they were going to turn deep purple any day now.
Worse, she expected him to shoulder his uncle’s duties and responsibilities, tasks that he was simply not equipped for. It made his head ache to even look at the ledgers that his estate agent showed him, but somehow he was supposed to know what to do and what orders to give the man. And the king was exasperated with him because he flatly refused to try to learn the intricacies of politics. How could the man expect him to do so? He wasn’t stupid, exactly, but he also wasn’t smart like his uncle had been. All of these things went right over his head. He felt baffled and confused all the time, like a bull run into a thorn thicket.
Whenever he looked in the mirror anymore, which wasn’t often, he was shocked by how haggard his face had grown. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was developing lines in his skin despite the fact that he was only in his mid-twenties. Under the multiple pressures that had been heaped on him, he was sinking fast and deeply. He was much afraid that he’d be driven to an early death by apoplexy if he had to endure too much more of this. Or he’d go mad, and end his days gibbering in a small room somewhere while people spoon-fed him gruel. He had to try to find his uncle and convince Avhonari to return. He HAD to! He simply couldn’t do this anymore. So no matter how bad this trip became, he’d endure it. At least if this killed him he’d be free.
Traggen groaned as the carriage jolted and shuddered, closing his eyes. His only hope was the fact that this road had to end sometime. Didn’t it? Oh, please, Gods, let it end… It did, at last, but only after he’d been reduced to nothing but a mass of aches and pains. The carriage came to a halt, and he nearly sobbed in relief. The door opened, and the driver stuck his head inside. “My Lord,” he said respectfully, “The road ends here. There is a track that goes on from here, and a wooden sign says that the village where your letters go is at the end of it. You will have to walk or ride horseback, I’m afraid.”
“That’s fine,” Traggen replied wearily. “I’ll walk.” No more jolting, he thought as he climbed stiffly out of the carriage. No matter how much his feet ached from the walk, it was still better than riding atop an animal that would sway and jolt him some more. The driver and one of his guards were going to stay with the carriage while he went on with the other. The man was shouldering a pack of supplies and clothing, for which Traggen was grateful. He wasn’t in good enough shape to carry anything heavy at the moment. “If we don’t return right away,” he told the driver and the guard, “Take the carriage to the nearest village and wait for us there.”
“Of course, My Lord,” the driver said, touching his forelock. Traggen sighed, and looked at the narrow track that he and the guard had to travel down to the small village where the former Lord Avhonari was now living. Better to just get going, he told himself. Otherwise he’d fall down on his face and never move again.
He motioned to the guard. “Let’s go,” he said, and began the long trudge to the village.
Hours later (or so it seemed to Traggen, who now felt dizzy with weariness), the guard finally called: “There, My Lord!” and pointed. Traggen lifted his head and stared at the small collection of daub and wattle huts ahead of them, and wanted to cry with relief. Somehow he forced himself to go on, his feet and legs throbbing and on fire. He saw some of the locals staring curiously at him and the guard as they entered the village, and Traggen went up to one of them. “Greetings,” he said, glad fro the translation stone that he wore around his neck. “I am Traggen, and I’m looking for my uncle Avhonari. Does he live in this village?”
“No,” the man replied, shaking his head. Traggen’s heart sank, and he felt sick. He wanted to crumple to the ground and howl. But then the villager continued: “He lives in the house over there, outside the village,” and he pointed to the east.
Oh, thank you, Gods. Traggen wanted to wring the man’s hand in gratitude. “My thanks,” he said fervently. He motioned to his guard and limped past the villager, who watched him walk away.
He saw that the house his uncle lived in was a large, gracious-looking stone structure. It had a big porch with a padded bench on it, and wooden chimes hung from the roof of the porch. They made a pleasant sound as a soft wind blew through them. Altogether it was a very nice place. But he only really had eyes for the padded bench, and he staggered over to sink down onto it with a groan of misery. He was never, EVER moving again! He’d just die right here, that would be nice. This was a pretty spot to be buried in. The guard stood next to him, waiting patiently for him to move or say something.
Traggen whined miserably in the back of his throat, feeling as though every one of his muscles had been pulverized. Then he heard a shocked, familiar voice speaking over his head; “Traggen?” He forced his eyes open and saw his uncle standing nearby. Avhonari had just come out of his house. He looked startled to see his young relative here at his new home.
Traggen wanted to laugh, but he just didn’t have the energy. “Yes, Uncle,” he said hoarsely, “It’s me.”
“What are you doing here?” Avhonari asked.
“I came to talk to you,” Traggen replied. “And nearly killed myself in the process.” Avhonari looked him over.
“You don’t look very good,” he remarked, his voice laced with concern.
“I don’t feel very good, either,” Traggen sighed.
“Come inside and rest,” Avhonari told him. “We'll talk about why you came here later when you’re feeling better.” He coaxed his nephew to his feet, and Traggen stood on trembling legs. Avhonari guided him into the house and led him to a bedroom. The sight of the comfortable-looking bed made him moan. “Lie down and sleep,” his uncle directed him, urging him over to the bed. “Dinner will be ready soon, and we can talk as we eat.”
“All right,” he replied, before he fell into the bed and knew no more for a long time.
Traggen was woken up by something tickling his face. He groaned and batted at it, but whatever it was only receded briefly before returning. He frowned, not wanting to open his eyes or move. But at last he did, and found himself face-to-face with a boy of maybe seven or eight. A pair of large amber eyes were staring at him curiously. “Who are you?” he croaked out of a mouth that felt like a desert.
“I’m K’var,” the boy replied readily.
He blinked. “What are you doing in my uncle’s house?” he asked.
The boy cocked his head. “My fathers live here,” he replied.
“Your…” he stared up at the boy in amazement as the child sat down cross-legged on the bed beside him. “Uncle Avhonari is your…how can that be?”
“Because Father Avhonari and Father Z’sharan adopted me,” the boy told him. “My parents were killed during a hunt.”
“Oh, I see,” he said. “Then you must be like Z’sharan. Whatever he is,” Traggen muttered.
“Yes,” K’var said. “We are of the same tribe.”
“Great. So you’re my relative too?” Traggen said sardonically as he began to push himself up on his forearms slowly.
The boy nodded. “You’re my cousin,” he chirped cheerfully. “Father Avhonari said so.”
“I see.” Traggen managed to get himself up to a sitting position, but it wasn’t easy. He still ached all over. The boy watched him with bright eyes.
“You came a long way, Father told me so,” he said, his voice reverberating with curiosity.
“Yes, I did. I came to see my uncle, to talk with him.” Traggen explained.
“About what?”
He didn’t want to tell the boy that he wanted to beg his uncle to return to that distant land, so he only said: “Family matters. Where is my uncle, anyway?”
“In his study. He’s waiting for Father Z’sharan to return, and then we’re going to eat dinner. That’s why he sent me to wake you up, because we’re going to eat soon.”
Wonderful. He was starving now that he’d gotten some rest after that harrowing journey. Traggen crawled off the bed, and then almost fell on his face when his legs threatened to give out on him. He wavered, putting out a hand to balance himself as the boy scrambled off the bed and asked: “Are you all right?”
“I will be,” he replied, not totally sure about that but feeling somewhat more hopeful. “Just give me a moment.” K’var nodded and waited patiently for him to find his balance. Finally he took a wobbly step away from the bed, and his legs firmed up under him. He sighed in relief. “I think I can make it after all,” he said with a wry smile at the boy.
“Okay! Come on then!” K’var waved an excited hand at him, and darted out into the hallway. He smiled a little at the child’s exuberance. Three years of misery had changed Traggen a good deal from the petulant little snot that he’d once been. Having the realities of life dumped on him had matured him a bit. He followed after the bouncing boy as K’var darted away toward the kitchen, Traggen moving at a much slower pace, of course. The child actually circled back several times to make sure that he made it, which rather amused him.
Finally they arrived at the doorway into the large, warm room, and a dark-skinned woman who was clearly one of the villagers chuckled and motioned K’var over to give him a freshly-baked cookie. “Now don’t tell your Da that I gave that to you before you had your meal,” she whispered with a wink.
“I won’t,” he hissed, then devoured the cookie down to the last crumb. He spoke through the last bite, waving at Traggen. “This is Father’s nephew Traggen, he just arrived. He’s going to eat with us.”
“Very well,” she replied, “I’ll set another place.”
The boy came bouncing back to him. “Come on, let’s go outside and wait for Father Z’sharan! Father Avhonari will come soon,” he added as he herded a bemused Traggen toward the front door. He found himself once more sitting on the padded bench. The guard was still on the porch, although he was sitting on the edge of it when they appeared. He jumped up, but Traggen waved at him to sit back down.
“We’ll be eating soon,” he told the guard, “And I’m sure that my uncle won’t begrudge you a meal.” The guard looked happy at his words. Traggen settled down on the bench as K’var sat beside him and swung his legs briskly.
“What are we waiting for? Where is Z’sharan?” Traggen asked at last. The boy pointed at the deep green of the trees where the jungle started not far away.
“He’s there,” the boy replied. “He’s a Speaker, so he goes to villages and tells stories and things.”
“Oh,” Traggen said, not pointing out that he had no idea what the child was talking about.
“There he is!” yelped the boy, jumping to his feet and darting away to meet the man walking out of the trees. Traggen watched as Z‘sharan caught the boy up and lifted him into the air, hearing K’var squeal and giggle. Then he lowered the child so that their noses were touching affectionately. K’var put his skinny arms around Z’sharan’s neck. Traggen felt wary as the two of them started for the house, remembering their last encounter. Those claws, the fangs, the glowing eyes! He’d pissed himself out of sheer fear. His body tensed as Z’sharan caught sight of him, and his brows lowered a bit over his golden eyes. K’var was speaking into his ear, and whatever the boy said made Z’sharan’s face lose some of its angry look. He padded up to the porch.
“Hello, cub,” he said to Traggen coolly.
At one time he would have been completely infuriated to be called that. Now he just sighed and said: “Greetings, Z’sharan. It has been some time since I saw you last.”
“Yes,” Z’sharan agreed, setting his child down on the ground. “Run and get Avhonari,” he told K’var, who nodded and scurried off. Z’sharan merely looked at him for a moment. Then he said, with a light growl in his voice: “I do not care why you are here, Traggen. But do not upset Avhonari, or you will answer to me.”
He gulped. “I understand,” he said. Z’sharan nodded, accepting his words. He glanced over his shoulder at the jungle. Traggen wondered what he was looking at, until he saw a figure striding out of the trees. A dead animal was slung over this person’s shoulder. He was taller, much taller than Z’sharan, and more muscular as well. Since he was only wearing a loincloth, Traggen had a great view of a powerful-looking body as this man strode up to them.
Z’sharan turned back to Traggen. “This is J’Dran,” he told Traggen politely, “My brother. He’s come to eat dinner with us.” The man set the animal carcass on the ground, his golden eyes looking Traggen over. Suddenly it seemed rather hard for him to breathe.
J’Dran frowned slightly. “Puny-looking thing,” he growled.
Traggen felt indignant. He scowled up at J’Dran. Z’sharan’s golden eyes were gleaming with laughter, and he put a hand over his mouth to hide a toothy smile. Just then Avhonari emerged from the house with his son, so Traggen turned his attention to his uncle and refrained from replying to the irritating muscle-head who was Z’sharan’s brother.
“Uncle Avhonari, might I talk to you alone?” Traggen asked his relative urgently. “Please?”
Avhonari heard the desperation in his voice. He sighed and touched his adopted son’s head. “Go with Z’sharan and your Uncle J’Dran, kitten; your cousin and I will be in to eat in a moment. All right?”
K’var nodded. He darted away to jump on his tall uncle, and J’Dran laughed as he swung the cub up onto his shoulder to perch there as they all entered the house together. Avhonari and Traggen started toward his study, but not before Z’sharan sent Traggen a cold look of warning. It was a silent reminder of what he’d do to Traggen if he upset his uncle. He swallowed heavily as Avhonari opened the door to his study and led the way in. “Please sit down, Traggen,” he told his nephew, waving at a chair. He himself sat down at the desk and folded his hands atop it. “So just why have you come all this way to talk to me?” He asked curiously.
Traggen took a deep breath. “I made the trek here with just one purpose in mind, Uncle,” he began. “And that is to beg you to return home!”
Avhonari stared at him silently. “Why?” he asked at last.
“Why?!” Traggen yelped. “Because you need to take care of your family!” he ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “I can’t do it anymore,” he said, his voice trembling a little. “I just CAN’T. I’m no good at anything, Uncle Avhonari. I can’t run the estate, I don’t understand politics at all…Hells, I have trouble remembering to pay the servants! I always knew I was useless, but this just drives it home! Please come back and take over again, please!”
His hands were twining in his lap, and Avhonari felt a pang of guilt. He’d saddled his poor useless nephew with all of these responsibilities, knowing full well that the youth wasn’t capable of carrying any of those duties out. He’d done it because Traggen was an ill-tempered, spoiled brat who’d made his life miserable – and in the end, had unmasked Z’sharan so that he and Avhonari had been forced to flee the country together. Moreover, he’d sent that letter to his sister informing her of his nephew’s sexual habits deliberately to punish him. But looking at Traggen’s haggard face, he felt horrible. The boy looked like he was falling apart.
But…He sighed. “I’m afraid that I can’t do that, no matter how much you beg me to,” he said as gently as he could.
“Why not?” Traggen nearly whimpered, as despair threatened to overwhelm him.
Avhonari made a helpless movement with one hand. “Because of Z’sharan,” he explained. “Even if I wished to return, which I don’t, I can’t go back with Z’sharan. His Majesty would try to put Z’sharan in a cage once he realized his true nature. I cannot have that.”
“His true…? You mean the fangs and the claws? Just what is he, anyway?” Avhonari shrugged, deciding to admit the truth about Z’sharan’s nature since he did not intend to return ‘home’ no matter what.
“Z’sharan and his people are wer folk,” he said as Traggen’s jaw dropped. “Wereleopards, to be exact. He can transform into a very beautiful leopard, as can J’Dran and K’var. So you see, the King would have his wizards confiscate Z’sharan and put him in a cage at Court as an oddity if I ever returned. And I would not go back without Z’sharan or K’var anyway, as they are my true family now. I’m sorry, Traggen, but it is impossible for me to return.”
Traggen stared at him across the desk dumbly. He’d known that he might not get anywhere by coming here, but he now knew that he didn’t have a chance. His uncle was correct – if he ever returned with Z’sharan and K’var in tow, the King would have them taken and put on display at Court. The thought of his little cousin trapped in a cage made his stomach twist. Even he wasn’t that heartless. He groaned, sinking his face into his hands. It was over. He might as well use the dagger he carried in his boot and slit his wrists. At least the agony would be over then.
He felt a hand settled on his shoulder, and looked up into his uncle’s compassionate eyes. “Traggen, it’s clear that you aren’t fit to hold my title, and the responsibilities inherent for anyone who holds it. But do not feel bad; you are in a majority. Most people would struggle under such a burden. This is my advice to you, and I suggest that you take it.” He looked deep into his nephew’s eyes. “Don’t go back,” he said simply.
Traggen blinked. His uncle was actually telling him that he shouldn’t go home? “But…” he began helplessly. “How can I not? Who will…?”
Avhonari smiled slightly. “I can think of one candidate,” he said in amusement. “Your mother.”
“Mother?” Traggen said, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. My sister is a very capable person, and frankly her abilities have been underutilized over the years. Many was the time that I wished when I was younger that she had just inherited the title and responsibilities, then I could have pursued my studies in peace. With no other male of age, she could actually now take the title for herself. Write her a letter, and tell her that you do not intend to return and that you want her to take over for you. She’ll be angry, of course, but eventually she’ll be reconciled. Especially when she begins to find herself enjoying the work. She won’t be bored anymore, and eventually one of your cousins will be old enough that she can train him to be the new lord after she’s gone. I believe that this is the best idea for everyone concerned.”
Traggen felt a wild spurt of hope. “But what shall I do here?” he asked, looking around. “I’m no scholar, Uncle. And I have no money of my own. I don’t think starving here would be a better alternative than going back would be.”
“Very true,” Avhonari conceded. “But I believe that I can help you there. You might not have many other abilities, Traggen, but you are actually a very capable and accomplished swordsman. Or have you given up your training?”
“No,” Traggen replied. “It was the only thing that I could do that didn’t drive me mad all the time. I did a lot of training, actually.”
“Excellent. I’ve often wished that I could teach K’var how to use a sword, but I was never a very good swordsman. And I haven’t practiced myself in years. If you wish to remain here, I will employ you as his weapons-tutor.”
Traggen felt a lump rise in his throat. “Uncle Avhonari…I don’t know what to say.”
Avhonari’s lips quirked up into a wry smile. “This is not just me being generous, Traggen,” he said. “I’m afraid that I owe you a debt.”
“A debt?” Traggen said, puzzled.
Avhonari sighed. “Yes. You see, it was I who sent that letter to your mother, telling her of your sexual proclivities."
Shocked silence. Traggen’s eyes were practically bugging out of his head. “You…You…why would you DO that?!” he cried in horror. “Do you know what I’ve gone through at her hands since then? I’ve never had a moment of peace or a moment alone either! She had me followed around by agents so that I couldn’t have a tryst with a man, and she spent all of her time lecturing me about getting married and producing an heir with a female. I don’t know how I stopped myself from going completely mad. I haven’t been with anyone in years. Years!” he nearly screamed, his face turning red.
Avhonari flinched. “I’m very sorry, Traggen,” he said remorsefully. “I should have known how she’d react to that letter. I shouldn’t have sent it.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Traggen growled. He rose to his feet, pacing around the study. “I really can’t believe this," he muttered. "I never knew that you were this cruel, Uncle.”
Avhonari felt awful. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but left it open when Traggen began to laugh. “I have to say, I’m impressed,” he said, shaking his head. “I always thought that you were a complete push-over. I misjudged you, Uncle.”
Avhonari didn’t know quite what to make of this. Traggen grinned at his expression. “Never mind,” he said, waving a careless hand at his relative. “I’ll forgive you, especially since you’re helping me to escape that situation. Besides, if I get too angry at you I’ll have Z’sharan in here trying to eat me,” he added with a gleam in his eyes.
Avhonari looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Your cat threatened me. He said that if I upset you I’d regret it,” Traggen explained.
“Oh,” Avhonari smiled. “Z’sharan has always been very protective of me.”
Traggen shrugged. “Well, now that everything’s settled, can we go and eat? I’m starving.”
Avhonari’s lips twitched. “Yes, of course. And K’var will be as well; he’ll be very fidgety by now. Let’s go,” he led the way out of his study and into the kitchen, where the three wereleopards were sitting at the table waiting for them.
Z’sharan lifted his head as his mate appeared. “Is all well?” he asked suspiciously, giving Traggen a hard look.
“Yes,” Avhonari replied soothingly. “Traggen and I had a good talk, and he’s decided to stay here for awhile and teach K’var to use a sword.”
Z’sharan’s brows lowered at this statement, but their son squeaked and jumped out of his chair. He ran around the table and jumped into a surprised Traggen’s arms. “You’re going to stay, Cousin Traggen?” he asked eagerly.
Holding the squirming, delighted handful of cub, Traggen found himself smiling. “Yes, I’ll be staying,” he confirmed. “Uncle Avhonari asked me to be your weapons-tutor.”
K’var hugged him tightly. Then he turned in Traggen’s grasp to look at Z’sharan. “isn’t it great news, Father Z’sharan?” he asked eagerly. “That Cousin Traggen’s going to stay with us?”
“Yes, it’s marvelous,” Z’sharan replied dryly. His eyes told a different story, but Traggen chose to ignore the warning in them this time. He figured that if his uncle approved of his staying here, and K’var was this eager, then Z’sharan would have to accept his presence whether he liked it or not.
He set K’var on his feet. The cub promptly ran over to embrace Avhonari around the middle, before running around to climb into his seat once again. He leaned over to speak to his Uncle J’Dran, who was sitting next to him. He whispered something to the older wereleopard, and whatever it was made J’Dran smile and run a hand through his soft hair fondly. His golden eyes stared up at Traggen in a thoughtful, weighing manner that rather annoyed Traggen. He scowled and looked away, hearing a low chuckle from across the table.
“Please sit down, Traggen,” Avhonari said as he took his seat next to Z’sharan. He took the only empty seat at the table, glad that it was at the end near K’var and Avhonari and not near Z’sharan or his brother.
Avhonari served himself and Z’sharan some food, then passed the bowls and platters to Traggen. He eagerly piled food onto his plate, practically drooling because he was so hungry. Then he told K’var to hold out his plate and he served the youngster, which made both Avhonari and Z’sharan give him approving looks that he didn’t see. Avhonari then glanced at his mate silently, as though to impress on Z’sharan that this Traggen wasn’t very much like the one that they’d known three years ago. The wereleopard shrugged slightly, indicating that the jury was still out where he was concerned. He would wait and see how Traggen behaved over the next weeks and months before making up his mind.
Traggen tried not to gulp his food, and to actually chew it; but it wasn’t easy. It tasted so good, and he was so hungry…Conversation went on around the table without him, and he hoped that none of them thought that he was being rude because he wasn’t saying anything. But when he glanced up he saw that K’var was eating with noisy abandon as well, the cub chewing vigorously at a strip of meat. Looking at him, Traggen thought about what his uncle had told him. This child could really transform into a leopard? It hardy seemed possible. He was so cute and bouncy, and except for a few differences he looked totally human. Until he saw it with his own eyes, he was going to have trouble believing it.
Finally, dinner was over. Traggen sat back in his chair with a happy sigh, patting his full belly. K’var looked rather bloated, and was yawning a bit. Avhonari glanced at his two guests. “We usually sit on the porch at this time of the evening,” he told them. “Would either of you like to join us?”
J’Dran got to his feet and scooped up his small nephew. K’var yelped happily as his uncle tossed him into the air. “I’ll play with the cub,” J’Dran remarked, carrying a wriggling K’var toward the door.
Traggen got slowly to his feet. His legs had stiffened again, and now that he was full of food and drink he felt heavy and weary. Avhonari gave him a concerned look. “Perhaps you should go to bed early, Traggen,” he remarked to his nephew.
“I suppose so, but I’m not used to going to bed this early. I doubt that I’d sleep,” Traggen replied. “I’ll just go and sit on the porch with you for a bit, until my body relaxes enough for me to sleep.”
“Very well,” Avhonari watched him to make sure that he was going to be able to stay on his feet as Traggen dragged himself outside once more. He and Z’sharan followed at Traggen’s heels, arm-in-arm. Once on the porch, they took their place on the bench as Traggen carefully sat down on the top step.
J’Dran was out in the field beyond the house, tossing K’var in the air to make the cub squeal in excited delight. Traggen found himself watching that big, muscular, almost-naked body. He couldn’t look away. His sex-deprived body throbbed sullenly, reminding him of just how long it had been since he’d had a man. His cock was half-hard, but he forced himself to look away at last. Once he would have been sluttish enough that he would have thrown himself on J’Dran whether the wereleopard was interested or not. But that would be a foolish thing to do with someone as large and powerful as J’Dran. If the wereleopard was offended, he could rip Traggen in half easily.
The evening wind blew on his face, and he closed his eyes as he let his body slump. It was so peaceful here. Traggen had the feeling that a new life was just beginning for him, and he decided to relax and just enjoy the changes.
Traggen finally sighed and hauled his weary carcass up from the step. He had to go and speak to the guard who’d accompanied him here. He found the man in the kitchen, drinking a glass of ale after the meal that the cook had provided him with. He sprang to his feet when Traggen appeared in the doorway, but he waved a hand to tell the man that he needn’t bother. “I just wanted to tell you,” Traggen began, “That I’ll be sending you back to the carriage tomorrow morning. I’ll also give you a letter to take to my mother.”
“Won’t you be coming with me, My Lord?” the man asked worriedly.
Traggen shook his head. “No, I won’t. I’ll be staying here with my uncle and his family. The letter will explain everything to my mother, I assure you. “
The guard didn’t look very happy, but while Traggen sympathized with him that wasn’t enough to make him want to return ‘home’. He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. He felt a sullen headache throbbing behind his eyes. “You can sleep here on a pallet in front of the fire tonight,” he said wearily. “I’ll speak to you again in the morning.”
He left the kitchen, his eyes starting to go bleary. He gasped when he ran suddenly into a large, hard surface and bounced off of it. He started to fall, but a hand grabbed him and held him up. He blinked up into a pair of golden eyes, seeing J’Dran looking down at him. The big wereleopard frowned slightly. “Are you well, little one?” he asked.
Indignation offered Traggen a fresh surge of energy. He glared up at J’Dran as he pulled away. “I’m fine!” he snapped. “I thought you were playing with K’var?”
J’Dran shrugged. “My brother and his mate are putting the cub to bed; not that he wants to go. He‘s very excited to have you here.”
Traggen’s brows drew down. J’Dran didn’t sound all that enthusiastic himself about the whole subject. “You don’t approve of my being here?” he asked stiffly.
The wereleopard’s eyes narrowed a little. “My brother told me all about you,” he said in a voice that had a low growl in its undertones. “And about what happened when he was in the human lands. So no – I don’t particularly approve of your presence here. Although…as long as you behave yourself and don’t upset my brother’s mate, you and I will not have a real problem.”
Traggen laughed in a cracked sort of way. “You’re the second wereleopard today who’s threatened me,” he noted. “It must be some kind of record. Don’t worry; I won’t upset my uncle. I wouldn’t anyway, but the prospect of not having to deal with you makes it doubly worth my while,” having imparted this shot across J’Dran’s brows, he gathered himself up with as much dignity as he could muster. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going to bed too,” he started to walk away with his back straight and his head held high, hearing a rumble of low laughter behind him that made him want to reach for his sword.
But he didn’t quite make it. Now that that last spurt of energy was draining out of him, along with the adrenaline that had been behind it, his eyes blurred again. He stumbled, feeling weakness creeping up his body as exhaustion and the long, hard journey he’d endured(not to mention the stresses of the last several years) all began to take their toll on him at once. He began to fall again, as darkness rushed up to greet him. He fell into it with a last sigh, passing out completely.
J’Dran used his superior speed and reflexes to catch Traggen’s limp form as it fell. He pulled the human up into his arms, looking Traggen over worriedly. But while the human seemed unconscious, his pulse (J’Dran could hear it beating in his throat and chest) was good, as was his coloring. He was simply exhausted. The wereleopard began to carry Traggen toward the guest bedroom where he’d slept earlier this afternoon, reflecting to himself that this human wasn’t at all what he’d expected considering what his brother had told him about how Traggen had behaved while Z’sharan was living in Lord Avhonari’s house. Perhaps he wasn’t seeing the whole of Traggen, since the man was so out-of-it at the moment. Perhaps he’d be different in the morning. He’d wait and see.
J’Dran studied Traggen’s face as he carried the human to the room. Traggen and his uncle looked somewhat alike, from the black hair (much shorter, in Traggen’s case) atop their heads to the rather fine-boned aristocratic faces. But the boy’s eyes were the blue of a darkened sea, and his mouth (when not set in petulant lines) was fuller, the lips more pink. He wondered idly what they’d taste like, if he tried the ‘kissing’ that he’d seen his brother and his mate doing together. But he wasn’t going to try it on an unconscious man.
He took Traggen into the bedroom, shouldering the door open casually. He laid the human atop the bed, and then paused. A thoughtful expression ran over his face, and then a rather wicked smile full of fang spread his mouth wide. He chuckled as he reached down to begin figuring out the laces on the tunic that Traggen was wearing. He’d never seen a completely nude human before; his curiosity was roused. He managed to get the laces undone, and slowly pulled the tunic off over Traggen’s head. He tossed it away casually onto a chair nearby, then pulled the human’s boots off before he started on the breeches. Why, he wondered in slight frustration, did humans choose to wear so many pieces of clothing? It seemed to take him forever to remove the breeches, but at last he got them off with a feeling of triumph. Traggen wore only some linen smallclothes under them, and these were easily dealt with. Then J’Dran straightened up as he let his eyes roam over a naked human for the very first time.
There were many similarities, of course. But Traggen had more body hair than one of his people, both under his arms and across his chest. Not a mat, by any means, but there was a curly dark trail that ran down his belly to his groin. J’Dran had the sudden urge to lick at that trail, to see what the hair tasted like. There were no spots, of course…not that they would have shown up against that black hair anyway. And Traggen’s cock had something that his own people’s did not – a foreskin. He stared in interest at the enveloping piece of soft-looking white skin that covered Traggen’s penis. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to play with it like a cat with a new ball of string. But groping an unconscious man would be even worse than kissing him. So he shook off his urges and pulled back the sheet, shoving Traggen over until his head was on the pillow. Then he draped the sheet over Traggen and left him to sleep, padding away to the room where he slept whenever he came to visit his brother and his brother’s mate.
Avhonari pulled his mate’s lovely naked body into his arms, spooning Z’sharan up against him. He nuzzled at the damp soft hair atop the wereleopard’s head, enjoying the feel of having his mate in his arms. This was one or his favorite times of the day – although the act that preceded it was even better. But cuddling in the afterglow was also quite nice. Their precious child was safely snuggled in his bed, and the house was quiet. J’Dran had stopped by briefly earlier to inform them that he’d put Traggen to bed, when Avhonari’s nephew had passed out from sheer exhaustion. He didn’t think that there was anything wrong with Traggen that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Avhonari had been glad to hear that – he didn’t want anything to happen to his nephew. He’d always cared for Traggen, even when he’d been an immature little snot. Now, when he was showing some signs of maturity, Avhonari felt a great urge to become reacquainted with his nephew.
Z’sharan sighed, stretching in his arms. “Avhonari,” he said softly.
“Yes?” he idly ran his hands down his mate’s chest as he spoke.
“You know that I am not terribly pleased that the cub has come…” Z’sharan began.
Avhonari tensed a little. “Yes, I know that,” he said unhappily.
The wereleopard rolled over so that he could look into his mate’s eyes. He cupped the side of Avhonari’s face with his hand. “But I will not try to drive him away,” he said gravely. “Because I know it would hurt you. He is welcome in our house,” he added.
Avhonari felt a prickle of moisture at his eyes. “Thank you, Z’sharan,” he said, before he kissed his mate tenderly to show his appreciation.
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